Fixing Judas 3/7
Story: Fixing Judas
Author: WMR
Rated: Mostly PG13, though one chapter may go higher
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness, brief appearances by Martha Jones and others.
Spoilers: Torchwood up to around They Keep Killing Suzie, and now completely Russelled and therefore AU. Doctor Who: all the way to The Runaway Bride, some usage of S3 trailer material.
Summary: He's still doing it: pushing people away rather than letting them get too close, because they always leave. But it still hurts him when they go, and he's still alone.
With thanks, as always, to the wonderful dark_aegis and nnwest for all their help :). This is a sequel to Finding Judas, which needs to be read first for this to make any sense.
Chapter 1: Another Goodbye l Chapter 2: The Captain's Wife
Chapter 3: The Meaning of Words
Oh. Right. Should’ve known that would come up sooner or later.
And, just like last time, she’s not going to buy the excuse that he just fancied a decent cuppa and a bit of reminiscing. She’s cleverer than that, and anyway he hasn’t forgotten - and nor will she have - the home truths she told him last time. Keeping her at a distance. Making decisions for her. And, though she didn’t say it, not treating her as an equal.
Enough, actually, to make sure he wouldn’t take her up on her invitation without a damn good reason. Because she also knows him well enough to know he hates being criticised. He doesn’t take it well, and it doesn’t endear the criticiser to him.
Jack’s watching him, too, and he won’t be fooled either. So he doesn’t even try.
“Martha’s gone.” He states it just like that; no embellishment, no further explanation.
“Shit.” The concern on Jack’s face is genuine. “She didn’t die, did she?”
“Oh, no!” He hastens to correct the misunderstanding. “Just decided it was time to leave. Wanted to get on with her life. Which she’s entitled to do, of course. And it’s not as if she’s the first who’s done that. It’s just...”
Rose moves from the sofa where she was sitting beside Jack, and perches on the arm of his chair, reaching for his hand. Even after the years without her, more than two years now with a different hand to hold, hers feels so familiar in his.
But then, so did Sarah’s when they met again. He never forgets. Though sometimes he wishes he could.
“It’s just you’re alone again,” she says softly.
That’s something she always did understand - the aching loneliness he felt since the Time War, the desperate need he had, and still has, for someone to shatter the silence. Someone to reach out and touch when the emptiness all around gets too much.
“You loved her,” Jack comments.
He blinks. But finds, all the same, that he can’t deny it.
It’s true. It’s always true. He’s loved every one of them. And every time one of them leaves they take a piece of his hearts with them. Some more than others, of course. Leaving Sarah-Jane behind almost broke him - and yet Sarah couldn’t understand why he just wasn’t able to go back for her. Losing Peri that way left him devastated. Jamie... oh, Jamie, forcibly taken from him along with Zoe, and his memories wiped. Sam... well, he went a little crazy then. And Rose, torn away from him like that, almost ending up in the Void...
Jack, hating him after Satellite Five. Even if that hate’s now clearly a thing of the past.
He sighs. The way the two of them are looking at him, they’re not going to let him get away with not answering the question. “Yes,” he admits at last, in little more than a whisper.
Rose flinches, and he quickly squeezes her hand. Damnit. Tactless, that was, considering what he refused to tell her last time they saw each other. Yet she knows. She even told him she knows.
“You tell her that?” Jack asks.
“What, to make her stay?” He’s scathing now. He thought Jack understood, but he hasn’t got a clue. “I don’t do that.” His tone is flat, inviting no argument.
“No,” Rose says, and despite her hand wrapped around his he can hear the criticism in her tone. “You just assume she knows.”
He pulls away, leaping to his feet and striding across the room. “It has to be that way,” he says, holding himself stiffly, hearing the suppressed anger in his voice. “Do I need to remind you what I told you when we met Sarah-Jane, Rose?”
“What, cause we wither an’ die we don’t deserve to know what we mean to you?” She’s angry too now, standing beside the chair where he was sitting, arms crossed, glaring at him.
“You know,” he tells her, his voice harsh, gaze focused hard on her. “You always knew.”
“Be nice to hear it, even just once,” she says, still belligerent, still challenging him.
“And then what?” He practically flings the words at her, a challenge. “I don’t do relationships, Rose. Not the way you - you humans - expect.”
“Did I ever say I wanted that from you?”
Since when has this been about Rose? He thought it was about Martha. But telling her that will only make things worse. As would mentioning a certain conversation about sharing a mortgage. Especially since he knows that conversation would never have happened under normal circumstances. And he knows, too, that had the TARDIS really been lost of course he would have stayed with her. She would have been all he had left. And he all she had left. How could he have left her - or let her leave him? Though he’d have done almost anything to avoid settling down, actually having to get that house with carpets and a mortgage.
“What did you want, then?” Time to turn it back to her. All those things she accused him of last time, the way she said that what he could offer her, what they could be to each other, wasn’t enough for her. She never did say what she actually wanted from him.
She’s perfectly still, standing by the chair, Jack standing by the fireplace just watching the two of them, not intervening. And this is such a bizarre situation, too, because she’s married now. The man witnessing this conversation is her husband - and he’s feeling like the ex-boyfriend, except applying that description to himself feels so wrong. He hasn’t a clue how Jack’s reacting to any of this, either; the man’s expression is bland in the extreme. Though of course it’s not as if Jack had no idea about Rose’s past with him - and, unlike Mickey, Jack’s never been the jealous type.
After a moment, Rose says softly, “Probably less than you imagine. I’d’ve been your best friend for as long as you wanted me. Wouldn’t’ve asked for more than that. I just wanted to know that I meant something to you.”
How can she not have known that? But he knows what she’s saying. It’s not the awareness; it’s the acknowledgement. Yes, the words are important. Why, he’s still not clear. He never needed her to say it in order to know. He always knew.
Humans. Why do they always need to talk about this messy emotional stuff? Isn’t it enough just to know? To show it by doing? By being?
He says roughly, “Of course you did. Do. But you know that. You always did. What, you’re saying that if I’d managed to string together words that could’ve been a lie, words anyone can say without meaning it, or changing their mind when it suits them, you’d have come with me last time? After everything we did together, you’re saying I let you down because I didn’t give you words?”
Rose’s reply is a strangled cry of frustration. After a moment, she adds, “Course not. Told you last time, it was much more than that. An’ I know you remember, so I don’t need to tell you again. Anyway, ‘s not as if me coming with you is an option any more, so that’s irrelevant. All I’m sayin’ is sometimes - yeah, sometimes we pathetic little humans do need words as well. Especially when we know you say one thing an’ do another.”
He’s about to deny that, but realises he can’t. He does do that.
Jack moves from his position by the fireplace, signalling his intention of joining in the conversation at last. “Mixed messages, Doctor.” The drawl is pronounced. “You can’t push people away and want them to stay with you at the same time.”
“I never - ” he begins, but two sceptical, challenging expressions look firmly back at him.
And, yes, he does exactly that. Always did. Still does. But it’s who he is, and his companions have to accept that, don’t they? Accept the way he is, or don’t stay with him. He’s always been like that. It’s hardly fair of the two of them to take him to task over it now. It’s not as if he’s ever pretended to be any different.
So they damn well should accept it. He is who he is. He’s not human, and how many more times does he need to remind them of that? How many times do they need to be told that they can’t expect him to react the way their species does? Or that he’s been around many, many times their lifetime, and if they’d had to watch people they care about grow old and die maybe they’d understand why he stays detached.
Though Jack does understand, he suddenly remembers, as a fleeting memory of a woman called Estelle comes to his mind.
But, still, he didn’t come here for this. His voice rises to match his anger. “What, is this get at the Doctor hour? Getting rid of frustrations you’ve been storing up for years? Cause, you know, I have better things to do than be lectured at by mere humans.”
Without waiting for either of them to say anything, he turns and marches to the door.
***
“See not much changes, Doctor. You’re still a damn coward.”
Jack’s voice reaches him as he’s halfway down the hall. It’s laced with amusement, and it’s that that makes him look back. Anger or contempt he could have ignored. But... Jack’s laughing at him?
“Does not saying it make it hurt any less when you lose them?” Jack adds, eyebrow raised.
And then Rose is there too, and her hand’s in his and she’s shaking her head at him. “Don’t you know we’re only saying this stuff to you cause we care about you? An’ we don’t want to see you make the same mistakes again?”
If you really cared, he wants to say, you wouldn’t have left me. Either of you.
But that’s unfair. They all leave. Why should Rose or Jack, or Martha even, be any different?
Yet they all claim to love him, whether they hint at it or say it outright, and still they all go.
Because he does push them away? Oh, he’s certainly done that plenty of times. Made it clear that time with him is temporary, or reminded them that he’s lived centuries compared to their couple of decades, and in doing so emphasised the unbridgeable gap between them. Reinforced that he’ll never allow anyone to get to know him properly. All they ever get is snippets, none of which make much sense in isolation, and rarely any context.
It’s not a relationship of equals, though of course it never can be. Not between a Time Lord and a human. Not even between a Time Lord and most other species. But couldn’t he try to be a bit more... well, open? Oh, maybe they’d still leave - after all, Martha did have to finish her training some time - but at least he could try.
What was it Rose said, the last time he saw her?
You can’t give me more than just a bit of you. An’ that’s just not enough any more.
Yes. He did owe her more than that. He owed all of them more than that.
His fingers tighten around Rose’s. With his other hand, he reaches for Jack, who offers his hand silently. Looking from one to the other, he says quietly, “I miss you. Both of you.”
“Miss you, too,” Rose says, and there’s a tiny choke in her voice that tells him how much.
Still misses him. Even though she’s moved on, happily married now and doing a job she clearly enjoys. He should feel guilty for that, but he doesn’t. Can’t.
“Me too,” Jack says, and that’s an even bigger shock.
He breathes in, out, just once, then pulls them to him in a tight embrace.
It’s a couple of minutes before Rose stirs, pulling away from him slightly, just enough to look up at him. She’s about to speak, and he knows before she even opens her mouth what she’s going to say. Her eyes have given her away.
He frees one hand, laying a finger against her lips. “No. Think it’s my turn this time.”
After all, what is it but putting into words what he really does feel? Yes, he told her that words prove nothing, that he could say them now and withdraw them tomorrow, or even say them and be lying. But that was no more than an excuse, something he knows as well as they do. And he did regret not saying it before. He owes it to her.
Besides, how better to show her - and Jack - that he has been listening? That he does understand how the way he holds people - companions, friends, loved ones - at a distance hurts. And how it guarantees that he’ll always be alone, even when he’s surrounded by people.
He’s the last of the Time Lords. His people never did this sort of thing, and that’s what’s held him back - well, one of the things. But what good does holding onto dead customs do him, if it means he can’t reach out to the people he cares about?
He’ll always be alone, yes. And is that really what he wants?
“What?” At least, he thinks that’s what she’s saying; it sounds weird with his finger in the way.
He holds her gaze, brown eyes looking into his own. “I love you.” At her shocked expression, he finds himself grinning widely. “Thought it was time I said it. Can’t be a coward for ever. Besides, might not get the chance again.”
He said it. Finally said it. And the universe hasn’t collapsed into the Void. If anything, his hearts feel lighter. The solid weight that’s been on his stomach ever since Martha told him she was leaving feels lighter.
And the only regret he has right at this moment, as the echo of his words still hangs in the air, is that he didn’t say the same thing to Martha before she left. Yes, his love for her’s different from the love he felt and still feels for Rose, but it’s love nonetheless and always was. He should have told her, instead of clinging to the fiction that she knows is sufficient. It’s not, and he was well aware of that. Just too much of a coward to give her the words she deserved to hear. To give any of them over the centuries the words they deserved to hear.
Maybe he will tell her, too. When he goes back to his own universe, he could look her up - or, since she’s already said her goodbyes and maybe seeing him again wouldn’t be fair to her, he could find her some time over her last couple of days with him and tell her then.
He could tell them all. Yes, he could do that. Not face-to-face, not with anyone other than Martha and Sarah. They wouldn’t recognise him. But letters, perhaps, or some other way. Let them all know what they meant to him. How they eased his life just by being there. How, despite the arguments and the mistakes, and the times he had to rescue them from stupid situations they got themselves into - though, true, there were enough times when they had to rescue him - he did always love them.
Yes, that’s an idea. He can do that.
Slow applause breaks the silence. Jack’s disentangled himself from his other arm and he’s clapping. As he stares at Jack - Rose’s husband, and surely he should be bothered that another man’s just said he loves his wife? - the other man winks at him. “About time, too. Thought you were never gonna say it.”
But that’s Jack. Jealousy just doesn’t exist in his dictionary. He’s all about sharing, isn’t he?
Okay. Jack’s asked for it. He doesn’t shift his gaze. “And, in case you’re wondering, I love you too.”
Jack laughs, but then looks down at his feet in that old habit of his that means he’s just a little bit embarrassed. “Think I kind of figured that,” he says. “I was a self-obsessed bastard last time we met. And I walked out on you right when I knew you needed me. You still helped me.”
When Rose rejected him. Yes. He was still reeling from the shock of being told no by Rose - and, yes, badly needing a friend - when Jack piled on the rejection by announcing his own departure.
“It was my fault you were like that!” he points out. “What else could I do?”
“Not your fault,” Rose points out.
But he shakes his head. “It was. Because I never checked. And I should have.”
“Doesn’t matter now, anyway,” Jack says, waving a hand in a careless gesture. “That’s over and done with. But, anyway, Doctor...” He grins suddenly. “Love you too, you alien bastard.”
He has to grin. That really takes him back. When the three of them were together, Jack called him that every time he insulted the younger man. Eventually, just like Captain, it became almost a term of endearment. “Think I worked that out when you let that skinhead kill you just to save me a regeneration,” he says.
“Yeah.” Jack reaches for him, taking his face between his palms once more and kissing him lightly. He kisses back, a little less lightly.
“Hey!” Rose objects. They break apart and he looks at her. Jealous that he’s snogging her husband? “That’s three times!” she says, indignation in her voice and posture. “An’ you haven’t kissed me once!”
“Actually,” he points out, and he’s finding it hard to stop smiling, “he kissed me each of those times.”
“You didn’t exactly push him away,” Rose points out.
“Want to find out if I’d push you away?” He can’t resist teasing her. Offering a challenge, to see if she’ll rise to it.
She does.
But it’s not enough, and when she pulls back he reaches out to her, stroking his index finger down her cheek, over the edge of her jaw and down her neck, to finish in the hollow of her throat. He hears the soft choke she makes as his finger glides over her, sees the way she can’t tear her gaze from him.
And he remembers. Last time, when he came back, when he saw her for the first time after saying goodbye on the beach, the Vortex-absorbing kiss that turned into so much more. Night after night of imagining her in his bed finally becoming more than fantasy.
She remembers too. That’s obvious from the increase in her pulse-rate, the expansion of her pupils, the slowness of her breathing. He dips his head and kisses her again, this time deeply, open-mouthed, the way he’s done in his dreams so many times. She clings to him and kisses back.
A sound from just a couple of feet away drags him back to awareness. Jack. Hell, what has he done?
But Jack’s watching them, and his pupils are dilated too. The pulse-point in his throat is beating rapidly. He steps forward and grabs the Doctor’s hand, Rose’s hand, and tugs the two of them towards the stairs.
He has to try to bring some sanity to this. Tempting as it is... “Jack, we can’t...”
“Why not?” Jack rolls his eyes. “Honestly, Doctor. Twenty-first century humans I can understand, but you’re not that limited. And it’s hardly as if you haven’t shagged us both before.”
Separately, of course, not together. But there’s a point - it’s obvious that they’ve told each other about that. Because Rose doesn’t look at all surprised, and Jack obviously knew about him and Rose.
It’s not just Jack urging him towards the stairs now, either; it’s Rose, too. And he... oh, yes, he does want this. Wanted it way back when the two of them were travelling with him, and that was all Jack’s fault, too. Too much bloody innuendo and putting ideas in his head. Ideas he had to resist at all costs.
Now, though, it’s different. He’s changed. They’ve both changed. Older, wiser - well, maybe that one’s debatable, but at least they’ve all learned from some of the mistakes they made back then. Rose isn’t on the threshold between childhood and womanhood any more, so there’s no need to feel guilty that he’s taking advantage of her. And she’s an independent married woman; no spectre of Jackie Tyler in the background waiting to thump him for shagging her daughter.
Well, all right, then. Why not?
He grins at Rose, then Jack, and takes the stairs two at a time.
***
tbc